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One Hot Fake

Sarah J. Brooks

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright and Disclaimer

Special Invitation

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Epilogue

Preview: Unexpected Heat

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

About the Author

Copyright and Disclaimer

Copyright Β© 2021 by Sarah J. Brooks

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Special Invitation

Hey Sweetie,

do you want to get THREE romance novels sent directly to your Facebook Messenger inbox? Simply click here and I will reach out to you personally!

With love and talk soon,

Sarah

Chapter 1

Marian

Dear Marian,

We’re sorry to put you in the middle, but my mother and mother-in-law are driving us crazy. My fiancΓ© and I have no input over anything, and we feel as if this is their wedding. They are the ones making all the major decisions without consulting us. We are very tempted to call everything off and fly to Vegas. Help.

Susan.

I quickly type a reply to Susan, promising to have a word with her mother and mother-in-law. It’s not an uncommon problem with something as big and emotionally explosive as a wedding. Emotions run high, and everyone forgets that it’s about the couple and no one else. It’s my job to gently remind everyone involved to focus on making the wedding a success for the couple.

I hit send and sit back to admire my empty inbox. Not that it’s going to stay empty for long. As a wedding planner, my inbox is perpetually full, and moments like this, when I manage to respond to all my messages, are to be savored.

I shift my gaze from the screen and realize how dark it has become outside. Startled at the sudden darkness, I check the time. Seven. I curse under my breath. My best friends, Jason and Brooke are coming to my new house for dinner at seven-thirty.

This means that I have thirty minutes to figure out what we’ll eat, where it will come from, and then get home and take a shower.

I simultaneously reach for my phone and turn off my computer. I find Ann’s number easily enough, and I hit call. She runs a seafood restaurant on Pathway Street, which luckily, is on my way home. My job as a wedding planner also means that I know most of the vendors in and around LA, which comes in super handy a lot of the time.

β€œHi there,” I say when she answers the phone.

We exchange a few pleasantries, and then I tell her my current predicament. β€œWould you believe that I have guests in thirty minutes, and I haven’t prepared dinner?”

Her laugh shakes the phone. β€œWhy am I not surprised?”

β€œIt’s a good thing that my clients don’t see how disorganized I am in my personal life,” I say with a laugh.

β€œThe only reason why you feel that way is that you give a hundred percent to your work,” Ann says.

β€œThat’s why I love you. You always make me feel betterβ€”in addition to your awesome food, of course.”

She chuckles before her tone becomes all business. β€œNow, what would you like to order?”

I rattle off my favorite dishes from the seafood menu, which I know by heart, and when I’m done, she promises that it will be ready in 20 minutes. Perfect. It will take me that much time to drive to the restaurant.

That done, I go through the motions of closing down the office for the day. The outer office is an open plan arrangement with two other desks, belonging to my two assistants, Kimberly and Eric. They are awesome, and I honestly don’t know how Lilly’s Love Wedding Planners would run without them.

I grab my bag and head down the stairs that lead straight out onto the street. I glance next door and shake the door of the boutique. It’s a habit I formed when I moved upstairs and left my girls to run the boutique. Every evening after work, I always check if the doors are locked.

That done, I stroll down the street to my car. Minutes later, I’m driving toward Pathway Street to pick up dinner.

Ann has my food packed by the time I get there, and all I have to do is pay.

β€œYou’re the best,” I tell her as I blow her a kiss and leave the restaurant.

The scent of the food teases my nostrils, and the rumble of hunger in my stomach reminds me that I missed lunch.

My new house is in Pine Place, a nice community of upscale homes built on a hill overlooking the city. It never fails to give me a thrill when I’m at my driveway, staring at my two-story house. It’s surrounded by a quarter acre of manicured grass that the community association takes care of.

Today, there is no time to pause and admire it. I have ten minutes to set the table and take a shower before Jason and Brooke arrive for dinner. From past dinner dates with them, I know they are sticklers for time, and they will be here at exactly seven-thirty.

I hurry into the house and head straight to the kitchen. I place the food on the granite top island. I desperately need a shower after a day of running around and an afternoon of sitting behind my desk.

I kick off my shoes and jog up to the second story to the master bedroom. I shower in record time, and in five minutes, I’m back downstairs

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